


The Diary of Mr. Ollivander

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-23
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: The day-to-day happenings of wandsmith extraordinaire Mr. Ollivander and his daily life as Diagon Alley's premier shopkeeper (self-proclaimed). Recorded in his own words with a touch of nerdishness, a dash of love, and a dollop of rascally cheek.





	The Diary of Mr. Ollivander

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**July 8, 1976**

Dear Diary,

Tea was all cold today at breakfast. Went to investigate, turns out Mimsie has come down with something. Took useless Shop Elf into St. Mungo’s, useless Healers say it’s an elf disease and she’d be laid up for a week at least. Living over the wand shop has been grand and all over the years–very convenient, low rent for me–but Diagon Alley elves should be made of sterner stuff. I’ll wager my supply of hickory wood that Malkin doesn’t have these sort of problems. Incidentally, she turned me down again when I saw her at the pastry shop. Frigid, that’s what I think. Probably a lesbian.

Daily Prophet rejected another short story submission. Said the characters were too “ludicrous,”� and I was right pissed. What do they know about great literature, anyway? The love story of Septima Fatwell, Howling Hag of Hogsmeade, and Wulfic von Studevoos, vampire stable boy turned troubadour, is a tale that needs to be told. The public would be clamoring for it if they knew about its existence. However, realized that I could indeed hone my craft further by making some changes. Decided that perhaps “Vollimander”� is not stealthy enough for a pseudonym. Top replacement choices include: Zoot Scafander, Morty Vold, and Emily Stubbins. Secret dream is to write under the name “I.P. Daily,”� but Agrippa knows that will never get past prissy Ministry censorship.

I wonder if Malkin ever gets sexually excited while fitting people’s robes. I know I would. Wands are sensual enough, you know, without some customers being naked.

Spilled tea all over table in the afternoon; had to clean it up myself. Stupid sickly Mimsie.

Malkin must. I am sure of it.

I really bloody hope she's interested in men.

...  
 **July 10, 1976**

Dearest Diary,

Exciting news!!! Unicorn tails have finally fermented!!!!! Three whole hairs finished after four months, all ready for the inserting. Have already found two perfect wood handles in elm and birch, but lacking a proper beechwood handle. Curses. Running really low on beechwood wands. Must go tree scouring sometime during the week.

Chatted up young Florean Fortescue’s sister today, but don’t think she noticed. As if I were that old. Or as if it mattered. Had a nice view of Madam Malkin bending over to pick up some cloth. At least three minutes of prime viewing time. However, downside is always soon to follow. Suspect that a Gringotts goblin thought I was ogling her–or _him_ –and gave me really menacing look. Actually, it could have been a flirtatious wink, but can never be too sure with goblins. Not sure which would be worse.

Eileen Prince’s sneaking son was in here today, asking me all sorts of things about the potions I use for treating wandwood. Mistook him for her, at first, which doesn’t speak well for either. He tried to tell me asphodel would keep the wood brighter for longer, but that’s ridiculous. As if I hadn’t already ruled that out in the ‘30s. Young ponce was undoubtedly trying to butter me up, but I was having none of it. Bright, that one, but right odd. Probably a poof. Kept muttering things under his breath about “butter”� and “filly”� and “otter”� and “gilly”� (weed?) or maybe it was “cotter”� and “Jilly.”� Now, I don't know much about feeding dairy to horses, or the eating habits of otters and gillyweed (superfluous, it seems), but I’ll tell you one thing, Diary, which is I never met a witch who called herself “Jilly”� in all my years here (Note: Interesting line of inquiry is what other names I’ve never heard in witches. Top that come to mind are Tamasha, Scheherazade, Zuflexiba, and Bambi.). The younger Prince is off in the head, in my opinion, and probably has no friends. Offered him friendly advice that asphodel is also used in certain brands of gnome shampoo. Got shirty with me and left.

Decided would be worse if Flirty Gringotts Goblin was actually pissed, since it might kill me in that case. Could be interesting to date a goblin, though, for a short fling. Unless it were a male goblin. Snogging a male goblin, ugh.

It's after dinner now, and the thought has just occurred to me. Who would ever shampoo a gnome?

 

...  
 **July 11, 1976**

Darling Diary,

Boozed with Horace Slughorn last night. Really tore up the town for a bit, but then he went and passed out right on lovely Rosmerta’s counter. Getting nowhere with her either, but a boy’s got to dream. Such a lovely young thing, and with a better chest than Fortescue girl. Not quite in league with Malkin. Will be sleeping off headache until after lunch.

Had to wash all my own robes today. Bollocks it up and dyed three of them blue that weren’t, turned one into a canary. Caught the Ã§anary and accidentally killed it. Down to three pairs of dress robes now. St. Mungo’s receptionist says Mimsie had an allergic reaction and might need to be kept there for more observation. Bugger Healers.

Finished one of the unicorn hair wands today; thirteen inches, birch, proved to be an itty bit snappy. Good for Charms as expected, but also suspect it will help bearer with magical creatures. A gem of a wand, to be sure, but Wand Instincts say to shelve it near the back because it may not be used for a while. Bit put out because unicorn wands are going for a nice price now, yet Wand Instincts aren’t to be distrusted. My gift and my curse, like.

Writer's block. Big question is whether or not Septima Fatwell ought to be pregnant before Wulfric finds out he's part giantish, or after.

Saw Gringotts Goblin and am sixty percent sure she is a female. Waved, but received same look as Tuesday in response.

Malkin would look dead sexy in a Gringotts uniform.

 

...

**A/N: This is a very weird fic that I wanted to try my hand at. Basically, er, Ollivander is even crazier than he seemed and not quite as fusty as one might believe. Enjoy, hopefully.**


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